I knew of the Manchester Guardian while at grammar school in Hull, but I was raised in a Conservative household and it was never allowed to cross the threshold. Accordingly, I did not read a copy until 1982, when I shared a small bush plane flying over Canada’s sub-Arctic forest with another English expat. Conversation was impossible over the engine noise.
To while away the hours it took to fly over hundreds of kilometres of frozen bush and lakes, he loaned me his copy of the Guardian Weekly. Two hours later, after reading the whole paper, I was a convert. I cancelled my subscription to The Economist and began a decades-long relationship with the Weekly. Others have been infected by my enthusiasm including Canadian friends, my wife, my children and lately my Kiwi son-in-law.
Throughout my subsequent career as a teacher and lawyer in Canada’s Arctic, I have depended on the Weekly for news about the UK, international events and culture. I particularly rely on the book reviews to guide me in choosing suitable reading material.
While I can now get the news hot off the press every day from the Guardian’s website, the computer will never replace the unmitigated pleasure of reading, in hard copy, with a scotch in hand, well-written and thoughtful articles by the Guardian’s many superb writers.
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